


Wait For Me

by xLoveMx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, Grief, Harmony - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Character Death, Post War, but also a lot of feelings, we stan fleur delacour in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-07-10 05:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19900921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xLoveMx/pseuds/xLoveMx
Summary: "No. Harry reminded himself. This was Hermione, she never did anything without a plan. "The war is over and everyone is left to pick up the pieces of their lives. Some are better at it than others. So when Hermione disappears without a word of warning Harry has to chose, stay behind and try to fix what´s broken, or find her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have to admit that I have not written Harry Potter fanfiction in years. In fact I was still on a different platform the last time I wrote anything that had to do with Harry Potter. But this series will always have a special place in my heart, as will this this. So let me guys now if this is something you´re interested in! x
> 
> Playlist to go along with the story:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVeLii5lJFFUD8pKeF0eceIWmotZbR160

„Two weeks. Two bloody weeks, Harry. That´s how long she lasted.”

Harry knew what this was about. He´d read the letter Hermione had left on the kitchen table. It wasn´t full of fancy words, or five pages long, like he knew her letters to be. Just a few lines.

_I have to be alone for a little while. I hope you´ll understand._

And Harry understood, even if Ron didn´t.

They had all ended up back at _the Burrow_ once everything was over and done. To regroup and recharge, and maybe also because he had never really known another home. As much as Harry wished for a little peace though he couldn´t settle down. This house was filled with grief and sometimes it was hard to breathe.

He´d talked to Hermione about it briefly, because they had all lost people during the battle, but the two of them were the only ones in this house who hadn´t lost family. Surely, the Weasleys had always been like family to Harry, but it was still…different. He couldn´t really explain it without making the whole thing sound strange in his ears.

The hardest part wasn´t even the silence that crept over the house while people desperately tried to busy themselves with anything that kept them from thinking about what they had lost, but watching Mr and Mrs. Weasley trying to keep it together. Mr Weasley had thrown himself head first into work, the ministry could use any help they could get, and Mrs. Weasley was cooking and baking and trying to engage the rest of the family in it.

And Harry knew what it felt like trying to hold it together when all you wanted to do was fall apart, but he also knew that they couldn´t afford that. Not with all their other kids needing them.

“I mean she couldn´t have stuck it out like everyone else? I don´t see Fleur running anywhere.” Ron threw his hands up and Harry had to take a step to be out of his reach.

Harry thought that, maybe, Hermione had done the only right thing by getting out of this place for a while, but he couldn´t say that out loud. Fuelling Ron´s anger wasn´t going to do him any good.

“I´m sure she´ll be back,” he instead replied. “It´s Hermione, she´s never left us for long.” It was the lamest excuse Harry could have come up with, but he didn´t have it in him to agree with Ron. He´d never doubted what Hermione saw in Ron, he adored his best friend, but sometimes he wondered if…

Pushing that thought aside Harry glanced up at his best friend. “Just…give her time.” The words hung in the air between them and it was clear that Ron wasn´t sharing Harry´s optimism.

Though really, he wouldn´t even go as far as calling it that.

-

Harry didn´t sleep that night.

It wasn´t unusual, and he probably wasn´t the only one who was wide awake, but none of the others wanted anyone to know they were awake. Either they didn´t want to be a bother or they didn’t want to be forced to talk in case they´d cross paths while wandering around the house.

Ginny, for a change, was fast asleep beside him. She was strong, stronger than most of her brothers maybe, and weirdly enough Harry worried about her the least. She was going to be alright and sometimes he wondered if Ron would be.

It wasn´t a thought Harry wanted to have, let alone liked, but it came creeping to him night after night and Harry didn’t know how to shut off his own mind.

Sighing quietly to himself he swung his legs out of bed and wandered down into the kitchen. He half expected to see Hermione on one of the kitchen chairs, a book open before her and a cup of steaming hot tea next to it, but the kitchen was empty.

Hermione was gone. And she hadn´t even told him where to.

_If you could be anywhere right now, where would you go?_

He remembered her asking one night as they had sat on the front steps of _the Burrow_ , glancing up at the stars. Harry remembered thinking that the stars had no right to be shining so brightly in the light of recent events and how many people they had lost. But then again the world kept on turning and the Muggles hadn´t noticed a thing of what had been going on with them. So why should the stars?

Harry had thought of the Dursleys and wondered if they were alright. There was no reason for them not to be, but still. The day after that conversation he´d sent a letter, telling them he was okay and asked how they were doing. He´d even chosen not to send an owl so he wouldn´t give them a reason to be annoyed at him.

Surely, there were worse things than Vernon, Petunia and Dudley being annoyed with him, he knew that now, but still. Harry didn´t exactly consider them his family, but they´d been part of his life for a long time and he felt the need to check up on them.

He´d sent the letter a week ago, but hadn´t received an answer yet.

Just like Hermione, who had disappeared without anything, just leaving him with questions. Why hadn´t she told him that she was planning on going? Had she just up and gone without a plan?

_No._ Harry reminded himself. This was Hermione, she never did anything without a plan.

She had known, or must have thought, that Harry would try to stop her, and maybe she wasn´t entirely wrong about that. He knew that he wouldn´t have been able to make her stay though, she was as stubborn as he was, maybe even more.

What hurt, however, was that she hadn´t left a note for him. Hadn´t told him she´d be going, or where she was going. If she´d come back. For Ron, yes, it made sense, but Harry was her best friend, too. Or so he´d thought.

“Your kettle is boiling.”

Mrs Weasley´s voice brought Harry back from his thoughts and he quickly picked up the kettle so the noise wouldn´t wake up the entire house. Or whoever was sleeping anyway. Harry hadn´t meant to draw any attention to himself, but then again he had never meant to do that and it had happened anyways.

There were a lot of things Harry wanted to say, but instead he simply asked “Tea?” And when Mrs. Weasley nodded he poured them two cups and settled down at the huge kitchen table. He tried not to glance over at the seat that was now always empty at dinner and breakfast.

“Hermione didn´t mean to hurt anyone.”

Harry wasn´t even sure why those were the words he chose to break the silence with.

“I know dear,” Her hands wrapped around the tea cup. “Everyone in this house…is trapped. They stay because they feel obliged to be with the family, when all they really want to do is go to a place where they don´t have to think about what happened every waking moment.” She paused. “How many times do you think Ginny thought about flying off when she was out in the garden, practicing Quidditch?”

The truth was: Harry hadn´t thought about it, but it made sense to him now that he was hearing it.

“Hermione was the only one who had the guts to leave,” Mrs. Weasley continued. “And I hope that she finds closure, wherever she is.” She offered Harry a smile and he couldn´t remember when he´d last seen her smile a genuine smile. Not one of those smiles she threw on whenever someone else was around and she was trying not to cry.

Taking a careful sip of her tea she nodded. “And I hope she knows that she´s always welcome here. As are you,” Her eyes met with Harry´s, who had a feeling there was a reason for Mrs. Weasley´s words, even if he couldn´t fully understand it yet.

“Arthur would probably say _Don´t break my daughter´s heart_ , but I´m going to tell you something else as well: Don´t break your own heart, Harry.” Pushing the chair back she grabbed her cup, “Thank you for the tea,”

And with that Mrs. Weasley was gone and Harry was left alone in the dark kitchen all by himself.

He didn´t go back to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we´re getting somewhere! Let me know what you think! :)

Harry had briefly thought about skipping breakfast, but considering the talk he´s had with Mrs. Weasley the previous night it felt wrong not to at least give it a try. She´d made all sorts of different things, ranging from pancakes over scrambled eggs to beans on toast and everyone who had shown up to breakfast was trying to at least eat a little something.

Mr. Weasley was already off to work or…well. Harry wasn´t entirely sure if he had even come home last night. He hadn´t seen George in at least a week and Ron had mumbled something about taking a walk.

He had looked less…upset than he had yesterday, but then again he had also looked more defeated than anything. It had resembled the way Harry had seen him right after Fred´s death had really sunken in.

_Helpless_ , Harry thought. That was the word he´d been looking for.

He hated the feeling and he wished that there was something he could do, something he could say, but it was clear that Ron had expected a different reaction from him but, even if he´d gotten it, it wouldn´t have brought Hermione back or changed her mind about leaving.

Harry had felt helpless many times in his life, but as horrible as that had been there had always been someone to tell him that things would be alright or helped him make a decision about what to do. There had always been someone who had known what to do. Thinking about it now it had really been Hermione who had come up with the best ideas on how to solve problems. Ron and Hermione had both always been by his side, but Hermione had always known what to do.

From the day she had repaired his broken glasses on the train to that moment she was willing to give her life for him without any questions asked.

Harry felt his stomach twist and quietly pushed his plate away.

He needed to do something, but he had no idea how to even start. If Hermione didn´t want to be found then she probably couldn´t be found either. It wasn´t like he could just write her a letter, there was no address he could have sent it to.

_If I was Hermione, where would I have gone?_

“Harry, everything alright dear?” Mrs.Weasley´s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he only nodded.

“Yeah…I´m fine.” And that might have been the biggest lie he´d told in a long time.

-

He spent the better part of the morning trying to find something to occupy his time. Ron still hadn´t returned from his walk so going out on one himself was out of the question. Harry had thought about what to say to his best friend, but he´d come up short yet again. There wasn´t a sentence that could fix all of this and Harry absolutely hated that he was unable to do something about it.

Mrs.Weasley wouldn´t let him help in the kitchen, which was probably for the better, so he ended up in the garden on a bench, watching as Ginny raced around on her broom.

_She´s good, better than me._

Weirdly enough that was the only thing he could think about there and then. Harry had always enjoyed playing Quidditch, well apart from that time Lockhart had managed to make his bones disappear after he´d fallen off his broom. Or that time a Dementor had tried to suck his soul out of him with all its might while he´d been about a hundred feet in the air.

He´d been good at it, but it wasn’t something Harry could imagine doing for a living. Besides, he´s had enough attention for the rest of his life. Ginny, on the other hand, was really good and he could imagine her being a professional. He imagined the whole family coming to her first game, Ron insisting to wear all the merch they could get from her team and Hermione rolling her eyes, but smiling and doing it anyway.

Harry felt his stomach twist again as he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment.

Maybe he should write a letter to Professor McGonagall. Ask if he could help in any way. After the battle had ended they had sent everyone home to recover and be with their families and friends. There was no official date as to when Hogwarts would be open again, actually there hadn´t even been word whether or not it would open again at all, but Harry couldn´t imagine a life without it.

He wasn´t sure if he wanted to go back to finish the year he´d missed, but to imagine that no children would walk the halls of where he´d spent the majority of his school years? That they wouldn´t sit in the stands of the Quidditch field and cheer on their teams? That his children wouldn´t get to experience the excitement that came with being sorted into a house? Not to stand on Platform 9 ¾, with Ron and Hermione by his side, to see their children off as they boarded the train? No, he didn´t want that.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder Harry opened his eyes and found Ginny glancing down at him.

“Mum´s called for lunch,” Her eyes were soft as she spoke before walking back into the house and Harry glanced down at where her hand had been just a minute ago.

He wasn´t hungry.

-

Ron returned sometime after lunch and Harry only caught sight of him because he was passing the kitchen while his best friend was taking a leftover sandwich from lunch out of the fridge. For a moment Harry stood and just watched, thinking back to the day he´d first met Ron and his family on the Platform. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Everything had changed and somehow Harry didn´t know how he still fit in.

When Ron turned and caught sight of Harry he stopped for a moment, sandwich halfway to his mouth. It felt like there was something he wanted to say, but didn´t know how to phrase it. Harry knew that feeling all too well.

“Ron…I…”

“Don´t. Just…” Ron let the sandwich drop onto the plate he´d been carrying in his other hand. “Tell Mum I won´t be down for dinner, yeah?”

“Right.”

When Ron pushed past him and out of the kitchen Harry could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him and twisting his stomach. He wasn´t angry at Ron. What had happened was by no means his fault, and without his best friend he´d probably be long dead, but Harry felt like everyone in this house probably did, helpless.

There was nothing he could do to distract himself from it though, the feeling hit him over and over, coming waves and making everything worse than it already was.

-

Almost everyone skipped dinner that night.

Mr.Weasley had sent a note that he´d be coming home tonight, but they shouldn´t wait with dinner. Fleur and Bill sat across from Harry and were engaged in a quiet conversation while Ginny hid behind a letter she had received a little while ago.

Harry had thought about asking her who it was from, but he assumed she´d tell him if it was important. Or maybe she wouldn´t. Things had been…different between them ever since coming back here. They still slept in the same bed, but Harry couldn´t remember the last time they had held hands or kissed and the worst part was that he didn´t mind as much as he should.

Sighing quietly to himself he finished what was left of his dinner and pushed the plate away.

-

Once everyone was done eating he went to clean up, but didn´t get all that far.

“Harry, you really don´t have to help. I´ll be fine,”

“Mrs.Weasley, you should spend some time with your husband, since he´s not here all that often,” Harry combed a hand through his hair and nodded over to the living room where Mr.Weasley had just sat down after returning from work “I can finish this up,”

“Harry dear, I think it might be time for you to call me Molly,” She offered him a soft smile, reaching out to fix the mess he had made of his hair.

“Well, _Molly_ , I think you should spend some time with Arthur, even if it´s just half an hour.” Harry returned the smile as best as he could. He really just needed something to do, something that would make him feel useful, even if it was just for a limited amount of time.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I`ll be fine. It´s just a few plates.”

She seemed hesitant for a moment but Harry must have looked very insisting, or just desperate, because she eventually nodded. “Alright. Thank you dear,” and with that she shuffled out of the kitchen and Harry was left by himself again.

Or so he thought. When he´d placed all the empty plates into the sink and filled it with water Harry could felt eyes on him. Maybe it was the years of experience in actually being stared at and spied after, but he always knew when someone was watching him. Turning his head to look he found Fleur standing in the doorway, looking back at him.

“Everything okay?” He found himself asking, fully aware that it was a stupid question given the circumstances.

Fleur only nodded and before Harry could ask anything else she pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and pushed it across the table towards Harry.

Harry, frowning slightly, glanced up and down between Fleur and the piece of paper.

“Read it.” She eventually spoke to break the silence and Harry did as he was told. He picked up the paper and let his eyes wander about what was clearly written in Fleur´s handwriting.

“I don´t…what is this?” He found himself asking and looked up, but Fleur was already at the door again.

“It´s the address of an apartment,” Her French accent came through at the last word. “In Paris. It belongs to a friend of mine,”

“And what am I supposed to do with it?” Harry asked back, his eyebrow raised at her.

“Do with it what you want,” She replied with a shrug before disappearing through the door and into the corridor.

Harry frowned and suddenly he could hear Hermione´s voice in his head.

_If you could be anywhere right now, where would you go?_

_I don´t know. What about you?_

_Paris. I haven’t been to Paris in a long time._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter. Enjoy :)

Harry spent the next few hours pondering on what to do. The paper with the address on it seemed to be burning a hole into his pocket and every time he came across another person in the house he wondered if they knew that he had a secret. Though then again this house seemed to be full of secrets lately, even if it was just people trying to hide their feelings from others.

It would have been easy to give the address to Ron, because broken up or not, he should have been the one to go after Hermione, but that probably wouldn´t go down all too well. Hermione had written that she needed some time, so Ron showing up, probably in an agitated state, wasn´t going to help, but what if Harry showed up instead?

Would she be angry? Would she send him away?

What would everyone else think if he disappeared, too?

“It would be to get her back…” Harry mumbled, as if to reassure himself. Fleur wouldn´t have given him the address if she didn’t want him to at least try and talk to Hermione, right? But then again maybe she´d just been tired of watching everyone mope around the house.

He knew Fleur and Hermione got along just fine, but he hadn´t known they were talking to each other about leaving and that brought Harry back to the question why Hermione hadn´t talked to him about it. It made sense, her thinking that he would try and stop her, but deep down even Hermione must have known that he would have never been able to stop her if she had really wanted to go.

Which had obviously been the case.

Sighing to himself Harry slid his hand into his pockets, fingers brushing against the paper. It was almost comical how his head was still fighting and coming up with a hundred reasons why going after Hermione was a bad idea, Ron being one of them, his heart had long decided that he´d be going.

-

It was way past midnight when Harry sat in the kitchen, a small bag hidden under the table in case anyone chose to have a snack or some tea and wander in to see him. He was still debating whether or not to leave a note. Part of him wished he could go and then be back before anyone noticed. People barely saw each other in this house anyway and there was always someone missing at the table. Fleur would know he was gone, but Harry doubted she´d tell on him.

Still, it wasn´t safe to bet on nobody noticing, especially since Ginny and him still slept in the same bed, if they slept at all, but leaving a note like Hermione had done it? Harry had a feeling that it would only make things worse. He could tell them he was bringing her back, but that would be giving false hope considering he didn´t know if Hermione wanted to come back at all.

And Harry already knew he couldn´t force her to. Not that he´d ever try.

The cup of tea he´d made himself had gone cold by the time he rose from the table and grabbed his bag. He was already halfway out the backdoor when he heard steps and a voice he knew all too well.

“Are you coming back?”

Ginny was in her nightgown, hair tousled and face hidden in the shadows. Harry wanted to laugh and shake his head, telling her that she shouldn´t even have to ask, but the truth was: deep down he wasn´t sure.

It would have been so easy to just leave and go somewhere. Just take off and try to sort out the thoughts in his own head, deal with his own problems instead of being suffocated by everyone else´s grief.

She stepped closer and out of the shadows and Harry was once again struck by how beautiful she was. She could have had any guy, girl too probably, and yet she had fallen in love with him and had chosen to stick with a crush that had developed into something more serious. She was smart and beautiful and Harry was sure she´d go far in life. As much as he wanted to be there for her while it all happened he knew that it probably wasn´t going to be that way.

Sometimes people only clung to each other out of habit, maybe necessity, or fear of letting go.

Harry might not have known what to do with the rest of his life, but he knew that this wasn´t part of it and it shouldn´t be part of Ginny´s either. She was too good to just settle for something out of habit when the whole world was at her feet.

“Of course,” Harry heard himself say, because that was what he´d always done. No matter how bad the situation, how impossible a good outcome had seemed, Harry had always come back, but he hadn´t done it alone.

“Be careful, yeah?” Ginny replied, stepping closer and resting her forehead against his for a moment. The house was quiet and for a little while it felt as if the world had stopped turning. “And don´t do anything I wouldn´t.”

“Those two things contradict themselves,” Harry pointed out with a chuckle and Ginny swatted at his shoulder. The moment had passed, but Harry was glad about it. He wouldn´t have known what else to say. An apology, maybe, but he wouldn´t even know how to begin.

“I´ll come up with a reason for your absence if anyone asks.” Ginny eventually spoke and stepped away from him.

“Fleur knows,” Harry replied with a nod and turned, but then stopped. What if those were the last words he´d ever speak to her? It sounded a little dramatic, even for him, but Harry couldn´t shake the thought, so he turned back to her, the corners of his lips pulling upwards slightly.

“Thank you, Ginny,”

She smiled as the shadows danced across her face. “Goodbye, Harry.”

-

He could have apparated to Paris, but truthfully Harry had to admit that he wasn´t all too experienced with it. It was a long way to Paris and he didn´t want to end up in the middle of nowhere. Besides, he still had absolutely no idea what to say to Hermione. Should he straight up ask her to come back? Would she even want talk to him?

All those questions made his stomach turn as he leaned his head against the glass, looking out at the passing landscape. The sun hadn´t fully risen yet, but Harry felt as if he hadn´t slept in days. He wondered if someone was awake already, if anyone had noticed that he was gone. He trusted Ginny to keep her word, but how long could she avoid everyone´s questions?

He pushed the thought away and was then immediately hit with another.

What if Hermione was long gone from the apartment? She was, by far, the brightest witch of her age and if she didn´t want to be found then she could cover her traces. Harry would be left alone in Paris with nothing but the address of an empty apartment.

He closed his eyes and willed that thought away too. No. If he kept worrying this much he´d never sleep again, and he´d never find Hermione either. He wondered how she had felt on her way to Paris. If she had apparated ( of course she had ) and where she was planning on going afterwards .

He must have fallen asleep over the thought of it, because when Harry awoke next it was because of a voice coming through the speakers. They were rapidly approaching Paris and Harry quickly pulled his glasses from the bag on his lap. He hadn´t taken much, not knowing how long he´d be staying. There wasn´t much sense in packing for a long trip if Hermione turned him away at the door.

_She wouldn´t do that,_ he reminded himself, but had to admit that the thought was there, as much as he didn´t want it to be.

-

Paris was busy at this time of the day. People were running from platform to platform, trying to catch trains and be on time for work. Harry stood in the midst of it all, trying to figure out his next steps. Was Hermione home at this time of the day? Was she going out? Did she have a job?

Harry wasn´t particularly hungry, but assuming Hermione wouldn’t spend the entire day at home he forced himself to eat a sandwich from the nearest shop and wandered out of the train station to find a place where he could buy a map of the city.

His French was almost non-existent, save for a couple of phrases Hermione had taught him during the summer between their fifth and sixth year. It had been her way of dealing with what had happened that year, and by incorporating Harry she had been trying to help. He´d let her go on with it, even though he had to admit that he didn´t remember much of the lessons.

Which was probably the reason why it took him almost half the day to figure out where exactly the given address was located. The sun was already going down when Harry found himself in the 7th Arrondissment and across the building that was written down on the piece of paper Fleur had given him.

He´d spent an hour in a coffee shop across the street, watching the door like a hawk to see if Hermione would walk in, but he hadn´t seen her. A couple of the windows in the apartment were lit, but he couldn´t figure out which apartment he was supposed to be looking for.

“Bloody hell…” Harry mumbled with a sigh as he paid his coffee and eventually crossed the street. He could have rung the door bell, but that wouldn´t make much sense if nobody was home. So instead he pretended to fumble for his keys while he pulled his wand and muttered the familiar words.

“ _Alohomora_.” The lock clicked and Harry opened the door, slipping inside. He immediately noticed the smell of food wavering through the corridor as he glanced at the name plates on the doors. Someone was making dinner and while he´s had a sandwich for breakfast Harry´s stomach complained about the teasing smell.

He was hungry.

Pushing that thought away though he found himself on the third floor of the building eventually. The apartment was one of two on that floor and it seemed to go out onto the street. Harry didn’t remember seeing any light in the apartment from downstairs, so maybe Hermione wasn´t home.

He pulled out the piece of paper Fleur had given him once more to make sure he had the right name. _Yes_ , this was it. This was where Hermione had gone, but was she still here? Harry could feel his own heart beating faster in his chest as he listened, his ear pressed against the door.

Nothing.

He quickly realized he must have looked pretty suspicious, so he pulled his wand out again, covering it with his jacket. If Hermione wasn´t home he could at least wait for her. Or figure out that, if the apartment was empty, that she had been long gone.

“ _Alohomora_.” He whispered again and the lock snapped open. Harry quickly pushed the door open and slipped inside. He´d been right, the apartment was dark.

“Nobody home…” he muttered as his eyes tried to adjust to the darkness. Still, he figured he should at least attempt to call for Hermione. He let his hand hover over the wall next to the door, trying to find a light switch while trying to call out for his best friend.

And that was all Harry managed, a try, because the next thing he remembered was a painful impact on his head before everything went black.

“Her-…”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter. Work´s started again so I might be a little slow with updates, but I´m still here! :)

The next thing Harry noticed, as he was coming back to himself, was the pain.

His head was pounding and for a moment he really didn´t know where he was. Had he tripped and fallen down the stairs? The Burrow had so many nooks and crooks, and the stairs were anything but even, but after all these years he knew his way around and he hadn´t stumbled once.

“Harry?”

A familiar voice pulled him from the swirl of thoughts and he let out a groan.

“H-Hermione…?” And suddenly it was all coming back to him. His train ride to Paris, the hours he´d spent waiting for her before deciding to try his luck inside the apartment. And then…

“What…?” His eyes fluttered open and Harry immediately regretted the motion, because the pain in his head flared up again.

“Take it easy,” It was definitely Hermione´s voice and despite the pain Harry was glad that he seemed to have found her. He slowly sat up, happy to have solid ground under his feet again, before slowly cracking an eye open. The room was lit now and he was on a small couch, Hermione next to him and there was…

“Did you whack me over the head with a frying pan?” Harry couldn´t help but ask as he spotted the item on the couch table. For a bizarre moment he wondered what the French word for frying pan was and then his head began to hurt again. Reaching up he felt a huge bump beneath his hair and honestly, had that really been necessary?

“You broke into my apartment.” Hermione pointed out as she picked up a glass from the table and handed it to Harry, who just frowned in response.

“It´s a healing potion. It´ll get rid of the headache.” She pointed out and Harry, despite just having been hit over the head by her, still trusted Hermione. He chugged the potion down and was surprised that it didn´t taste as horribly as he had imagined it would.

“Okay. Fair point. But you´re a witch? You could have just, I don´t know, stunned me?” That would have been far less painful.

“You could have been anyone, Harry.” Hermione shook her head. “You know how many laws I´d have broken if you´d have been a usual burglar and I would have used magic for them to see?”

She did have a point there. Of course she had, this was Hermione he was talking to.

The pain in his head had subsided and Harry placed the empty glass back onto the table.

“What are you even doing here? Didn´t you guys find the note I left?”

For a moment Harry felt his heart sink. Hermione hadn´t want to be found, or followed, and here he was, having thought that she might change her mind if she saw him. If he was being honest he´d have traded the headache for the heartbreak right about now.

“No we found it, I just…” Harry began but trailed off. What was he supposed to say? There was something, just beneath the surface, scratching and waiting to be set free. Things, emotions, Harry hadn´t allowed himself to think, or feel, because of the uncertainty of the war, because of Ginny, because of Ron. But now all those barriers seemed to have vanished and been replaced with the fact that Hermione had left them. There seemed to be just one barrier now instead of numerous ones, but that one barrier seemed to be higher than the others and far harder to tear down.

“Oh Harry.” A sigh escaped Hermione´s lips and before Harry could say anything else he could feel her arms wrapping around him tightly. It was such a familiar gesture, something that immediately took him back to their school days.

For a moment all the tension vanished from his body and while Harry was well aware that one hug didn´t just erase all of their problems he was still happy that she seemed to at least be glad to see him. Wrapping his own arms around her Harry buried his head in her hair for a moment, taking in the familiar scent.

“I´m sorry.” He muttered and found it only a tiny bit bizarre that he was the one who was apologizing, considering she had been the one to hit him over the head with a frying pan.

Harry felt as if he was holding on to her for dear life, but Hermione was holding onto him just as tightly and in the end he didn´t know how long they had stayed that way. Hermione felt safe to him, like coming home, and even though the apartment wasn´t something he´d consider huge it seemed ten times bigger than the Burrow to him.

“Seriously though, Harry, what were you thinking?” Hermione asked as she pulled back slightly, her eyes glistening with tears. “What if someone else would have been here? Or someone would have caught you using magic?”

He knew that she was just looking out for him and in retrospect his actions had been pretty…dumb. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair. She was right, as always, and Harry´s lips curved into a smile without him even wanting to.

_Almost like it used to be,_ he thought and was only pulled back by Hermione swatting his arm.

“Quit smiling at me like that, Harry. I am being serious.” She raised an eyebrow, though even Harry could see the way the corners of her lips were trying to pull upwards.

“I know, I know. I´m sorry. I wasn´t thinking.”

_I just wanted to find you_. He wished that he could say those words out loud, but something was holding him back. Maybe it wasn´t the time. Maybe it never would be? Or maybe Hermione would know without Harry having to say a word?

His head began to spin and he closed his eyes for a moment. He needed to slow down. He´d barely slept during the last couple of days, he´d travelled all day and then his best friend had whacked him over the head with a frying pan. Admittedly, Harry had been through worse, but that didn´t mean that he was immune to anything that caused less pain than dying.

“I´ll make us some tea.”

The unspoken question of why he´d come and how he´d found her hung in the air between them as Hermione moved towards the kitchen and Harry stayed where he was, giving himself a moment to take the apartment in. It was rather small, a couch in the middle of the room with a matching chair which, however, stood by the window. There were a couple of shelves filled with books, but they didn´t all seem to fit, because there were piles of books on the ground, too. A small desk stood on the other side of the window from which you could climb out onto a small balcony.

The kitchen was to the left and there was another door that Harry assumed lead to the bedroom. It wasn´t big, but it was cosy. For some reason it was also perfect for Hermione. He could imagine her sitting in the chair by the window, a book on her lap and a cup of tea in hand.

“What are you thinking about?” Hermione´s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You were smiling like an idiot.”

Taking the cup she offered him Harry was glad that Hermione didn´t seem to plan on asking any further questions on the matter. Instead she settled next to him and blew on her tea before taking a sip. Then they sat in silence for a little while, sipping their teas, but for once it was a comfortable silence. Harry didn´t feel the need to say anything just to keep a conversation going for the sake of it.

It had always been like that with Hermione and maybe that was why he´d felt so lost without her.

Once the tea was finished Harry offered to take the empty cups to the kitchen and Hermione nodded. “I´ll get you a pillow and blanket. I know the couch is a bit small,” She shrugged her shoulders. “But I´m afraid there´s nothing else to sleep on besides the floor.”

“Oh no,” Harry quickly replied over his shoulder. Anything would be better than sleeping with his head against the train window. Even now he could still feel the kinks in his neck from the awkward position. “It´s fine.”

-

Hermione was just setting up the couch when he returned from the kitchen and for a moment Harry leaned against the door frame, just watching her. Part of him couldn´t quite believe that she was real. That they were here, together, in Paris of all places. In a tiny apartment away from their family and friends, and yet it absolutely wasn´t the worst thing that could have happened to them.

Even if it maybe should have been exactly that.

“You´re staring.” She sounded tired, but Harry could hear the smile in her voice nonetheless.

“Sorry.” He stepped into the living room and Hermione finished folding the blanket before she walked over to him.

“The bathroom´s an ensuite to the bedroom. If you need it just go, don´t worry about waking me.” It was probably code for _I don´t sleep too well anyways_ , but neither of them needed to say that out loud.

“Alright, thanks.”

And then they just stood there, facing each other, and Harry resisted the temptation to reach up and brush a strand of hair from her face. He wasn´t even sure why. He´d done it before, he´d held onto her hand countless times and just a little while ago they´d sat on the couch, hugging like their lives had depended on it, but there was just something about this moment that was…different.

He couldn´t quite put his finger on what it was, but the only sound Harry could hear then and there was the sound of his own heart, beating a little too fast in his chest.

“Good night Harry,” Hermione eventually spoke, her words barely more than a whisper, but enough to break the spell.

“Good night, Hermione.” He replied as she pushed past him, slipping into the bedroom with the door left open just a crack.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are still enjoying these updates! :)

Harry had really tried to fall asleep, but the couch wasn´t exactly comfortable. Not for someone his size anyways. He was regularly losing the feeling in his legs, because they kept hanging over the edge for too long and considering the fact that he already had trouble sleeping, this wasn´t really helping.

He had tried about a dozen different sleeping positions, but neither of them had worked. He knew he´d only wake up with his back hurting if he fell asleep at all, so Harry would rather just spend the night awake and deal with the tiredness in the morning.

He eventually sat up with a sigh and decided that a cup of tea would probably help him relax a little. He might have been tired, but his mind seemed to be wide awake. Harry wondered if it had been a stupid idea to just show up, but then again what else was he supposed to do. He could have sent an owl, asking if Hermione wanted company, but the truth was: He didn´t just want her company, he had needed to get away from _the Burrow_.

Harry felt his heart sink a little in his chest. _The Burrow_ had been his home for such a long time, but during the last couple of weeks he´d felt like suffocating whenever he´d entered the house. He knew it wasn´t anyone´s fault. Everyone dealt with grief in a different way, and everyone had a right to grieve, but he couldn´t do it with so many people around. People who were barely holding it together and expected him to do the same.

He was already halfway to the kitchen when he heard the whimpering.

Hermione hadn´t fully closed the door when she´d gone to bed earlier and Harry wasn´t sure what to do. The whimpering was soft and quiet, but it sent a shiver down his spine. He knew how real nightmares could get. How they could grab a hold of you and not let go until you woke up screaming, trying to free yourself from the darkness that was still holding onto you, and trying to pull you back in.

It was that thought that made Harry turn around and slip into the bedroom. He´d heard a lot of screaming and whimpering during the last couple of weeks, but everyone seemed to have ignored it so they wouldn´t embarrass the other and tear at the carefully constructed image of things being alright. This wasn´t _the Burrow_ though, this was just Hermione and him somewhere in Paris and all they had was each other.

“Hermione?” his eyes needed to adjust to the darkness and when Harry could finally see a little he could make out Hermione´s shadow in the bed. She was curled up into herself, the sheets tousled and hanging half off the bed. The whimpering hadn´t stopped though, in fact it seemed to have gotten a little more urgent.

“N-No…no…”

Hermione´s voice broke and Harry was beside her in an instant. “Hey…Hermione…wake up.” He reached out, gently shaking her shoulder as if not wanting to startle her. She curled away from his touch, however, and Harry frowned.

“It´s all good…hey,” He applied a little more pressure, shaking her, but she didn´t seem to wake. “You´re having a nightmare.” Harry thought that, maybe, the sound of his voice could bring her back. He didn´t know what she was dreaming about, but seeing her toss and turn was enough to be able to tell that it wasn´t an enjoyable dream.

“No…N-no…don´t…please…” the whimpering became louder and Harry could feel his stomach twist. He couldn´t see his friends in pain, let alone one of his best friends.

Distracted by his own thoughts he wasn´t prepared for what came next. Hermione´s eyes shot open and Harry could feel her fingernails digging into his arm.

_Panic._ Was the first thing he thought, and tried not to wince at the pain of her fingernails digging deeper into his skin. “ _Mione_ , hey. It´s okay, it´s me.”

The nickname seemed to do the trick, because the writhing stopped and Harry could hear her taking a deep breath. “Harry?” Hermione´s voice was quiet and the breath she drew shaky.

“Yeah…it´s me. You were having a nightmare.” He gently pulled at her fingers, removing them from his arm, and ignoring the pain that came with it once again.

“How did you get in here?”

“You left the door open, remember?” Harry pulled his hand back, but didn´t get all that far before Hermione reached for it. They´d held onto each other´s hands so many times before, but this felt different. It wasn´t a life threatening situation, neither was it a goodbye. Just the proof that they were both still here.

“I´m sorry for waking you,” Hermione eventually whispered, using her free hand to wipe over her cheeks. Harry couldn´t see the tears, but he knew they were there.

“Don´t be. I wasn´t really sleeping. That could is bloody tiny,”

A small chuckle escaped Hermione´s lips, followed by a sigh as she leaned against the headboard. She could feel her fingers tangling with Harry´s and somehow it was easy in the sudden comfort of darkness. Darkness that had made it hard to breathe during the last few days. Darkness that didn´t seem to be all that scary anymore now that he was here.

“You can stay.” Hermione eventually broke the silence again. “The bed is big enough and I don´t want to be responsible for you hurting yourself by falling off the couch in the middle of the night.”

“Says the girl who whacked me over the head with a frying pan?” Harry teased and Hermione shoved him with her free hand, shaking her head.

“Do you want to stay or not?” She already knew the answer, of course. Everyone would have preferred the bed over a tiny couch and there really was enough room in here for the both of them. She wasn´t even sure why she hadn´t thought about it in the first place. Or maybe she was, but maybe it was something she didn´t like thinking about.

Scooting over to the side Hermione reluctantly let go of Harry´s hand to make room in the bed. She could feel the mattress dip slightly and moved to untangle the covers so they could make proper use of them.

Settling back against the pillows Hermione eventually pulled the covers over them and took a deep breath before exhaling again. Harry had settled in next to her and his back was thanking him already. This was definitely more comfortable than the couch and even if they weren´t able to get a lot of sleep, they´d at least be comfortable.

“Harry?”

He had already closed his eyes when Hermione´s voice broke the silence that had settled over them yet again.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” The words hung in the air and Harry could feel his heart missing a beat. Somehow he had a feeling that she wasn´t just thanking him for waking her up from the nightmare, but she didn´t have to say that out loud. They had always understood each other without words. Looks and touches had been enough and maybe they were enough now, too.

Finding Hermione´s hand under the covers Harry intertwined their fingers and let his eyes fall shut. The apartment was quiet apart from the sound of Hermione breathing in and out and within minutes, Harry had fallen asleep.

-

The sun was already streaming in through the curtains when he awoke the next time. He blinked his eyes open and immediately noticed that something was missing. Or someone, to be exact. Harry´s vision might have been impaired, but he could tell that the other side of the bed was empty.

Pushing himself into a sitting position Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked around. For a painfully long moment he thought Hermione might have left again. That she had gone someplace he couldn´t find her, because nobody knew where that place would be, but then the smell of coffee wavered through the air and Harry could feel the knot in his stomach untangling.

Swinging his legs out of bed he made his way through the door and into the living room. The smell of coffee got stronger as he stepped into the open space where he could make out Hermione bustling about.

“Harry,” he could hear the smile in her voice and immediately found the corners of his own lips pulling upwards.

“Coffee? Oh, I cleaned your glasses,” She picked them up from the table and handed them over.

_Ah yes_ , that was much better. Blinking again Harry looked around and caught sight of the small table that Hermione had set up by the window.

“Hungry?” She was indeed smiling as she poured him a cup of coffee. “I made some scrambled eggs and got us some croissants. If you´re in Paris you have to try them.”

Harry followed her to the table and settled down, picking up the coffee and taking a careful sip. He couldn´t remember the last time they´ve had breakfast together while smiling. And he wasn´t talking about forced smiles, they´ve had plenty of those during the last couple of weeks.

“Thanks.” reaching for the fork Harry picked up some of the scrambled egg. Were they supposed to talk about last night? Or about Hermione leaving? Where would they go from here? All those questions were swirling around his head as he leaned back against his chair.

Maybe it wasn´t his place to talk. She´d been the one who had left and Harry had followed her without permission, so he couldn´t be the one to bring it up.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

He was still thinking about how nice it felt to hear his name spoken by her, when the knock on the window came. Anyone else might have found it strange, but the sound was so familiar to Harry that he almost automatically reached for the handle to open the window.

“Harry.” Hermione´s voice sounded a little more concerned than he would have liked, and he followed her glance to the window. The owl was patiently waiting on the sill, carrying a letter.

“There´s only one other person who knows this address.”

Hermione was right, and Harry felt his stomach drop.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally time for another chapter! Let me know what you think! x

Both Harry and Hermione were staring at the owl, which had hopped through the open window and onto their breakfast table. Harry recognized it instantly. It belonged to Bill and Fleur and while he knew that he couldn´t, for the life of him, remember the name, something French of course, something Harry would have probably not been able to pronounce correctly anyways, he knew it was theirs.

Taking the envelope from the owl Hermione turned it over in her hands. It had both their names written on it and so she opened it while Harry reached out to pet the owl, which pushed its head against his hand.

“What does it say?” Harry eventually broke the slightly uncomfortable silence that had been hanging over them and Hermione glanced up at him, their eyes meeting.

“Not much, honestly.” She handed the letter over and Harry could see that there were only a few lines written down. It was, indeed, a letter from Fleur. It would have surprised him if Bill had much to say to them. Not that they didn´t get along, but he probably didn’t know where they had gone and even if Fleur had told him he had no more reason to write them than any of the other people currently living at _the Burrow._

Fleur was talking about how nobody seemed to have really noticed that he was gone yet. His presence had, of course, been missed at dinner and lunch, but it wasn´t unusual for people to stay away so she assumed people at least hadn´t made a connection between Hermione disappearing and Harry leaving yet.

Then she had written about how she hoped that he´d found Hermione and that everything was alright. “Well apart from being hit over the head with a frying pan…” Harry mumbled to himself and Hermione, who had gotten up to get a small bowl of water for the owl, shook her head.

“You´re never going to let that go, are you?” She then asked.

“Well it only happened last night so…”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she placed the bowl onto the window sill and sat back down. Meanwhile Harry had stumbled upon some French at the bottom of the letter.

“Hermione, what does this mean?”

Harry glanced up to meet her eyes again as he turned the letter to indicate what he´d been talking about, and for a moment Harry thought her expression faltered. Maybe he was imagining things though, he hadn´t slept all that well during the last couple of weeks.

“Oh she´s just telling us to go visit one of her favourite cafés here in Paris. And the rest is just a complimentary closing. You know, like _yours truly_.“

_Avec tout mon amour,_

_Fleur._

Amour was the equivalent to love, even Harry with his nearly non-existent knowledge of the French language knew that. So yeah, a complimentary closing sounded about right.

Picking up her croissant and tearing off a piece to pop it into her mouth, Hermione settled back into the chair. “We should probably send a quick reply, you know. To let her know you´re alright,” And by that she meant that she herself would write a reply. Harry had known her long enough to know that he wasn´t writing that reply and Hermione knew very well he probably wouldn´t do it either, even if Fleur had asked him to. Not out of malice, of course, but simply because he´d forget.

Hermione grabbed some paper and ink before beginning to write, while Harry turned his attention back to the letter once more.

“ _Mariage?”_ He then mumbled. “Doesn´t that mean like…marriage?”

Glancing up at him from where she was writing a reply, Hermione nodded. “Well. _Wedding,_ technically. We´ve talked about that favourite café of hers on Bill and her wedding day. You know, before it all went to hell,”

Falling silent Hermione turned back to writing and Harry glanced at the letter again before his focus was shifted to the owl trying to steal a bite of his croissant. Or well, the entire thing, really.

“Hey, stop it!”

_J'ai bien vu comment vous vous regardiez à mon mariage. Tente ta chance._

_Avec tout mon amour,_

_Fleur._

-

After finishing the letter and sending the owl off with it, Harry had disappeared into the bathroom to take a shower and change. He´d leave the planning for the rest of the day to Hermione. It was clear that he was welcome here, but it didn´t seem like she was planning on returning home any time soon. Not that he had thought she would, he was just glad she hadn´t sent him away again immediately.

When he returned eventually, feeling distinctively more human, Hermione had changed too. She was wearing a blue dress and had thrown on a grey cardigan, with her hair falling over her shoulders in waves. It had long seized to be as bushy as it had been during their first years at Hogwarts, but it was anything but straight and Harry found that he liked it that way. It fit Hermione, and now that they weren’t on the run anymore ( not literally anyways ) there was no need to keep it short for easy maintenance anymore.

“Since you´re here now we might as well be tourists for the day. Paris has some beautiful places.” Hermione offered him a smile and Harry didn´t dare to ask what she would have been doing if he hadn´t shown up. What if she had plans and he was getting in the way?

Shaking that thought he grabbed his own jacket and eventually headed for the door.

-

The Eiffel Tower was bigger than he had anticipated. Harry wasn´t even sure why, Big Ben wasn´t really that small either, but maybe he´d never actually thought about how big the Eiffel Tower was. He had never thought about traveling all that much either. His entire life had been dictated by Voldemort, living from year to year, always wondering if he´d live to see another day.

Now that he wasn´t chased by Death Eaters anymore he needed to figure out what to do with his life. Maybe this was going to help.

It was just past ten, but the lawn in front of the tower was already filled with people. Most of them tourists, or so Harry assumed. He could hear a variety of languages, ranging from French over English and Spanish to something he assumed was from Eastern Europe, but he couldn´t quite figure out what it was.

Some were chatting and laughing, some were taking pictures and some had brought a blanket to sit on the grass. It was all…perfectly normal and Harry found that he liked it. The pain of losing so many people, and it partially being his fault? It was still there, but it didn´t fill up his entire existence anymore.

“Would you two like to have your…special picture taken?” The voice pulled Harry from his thoughts and he turned to see where the voice had been coming from. A man, maybe in his late thirties, had approached them, an old looking camera in his hand. It vaguely reminded him of the one Rita Skeeter´s assistant had always been carrying around.

“Special?” He then asked, glancing over at Hermione to see what she thought of the whole ordeal.

“Do you want to?” She asked in return and Harry shrugged his shoulders.

“What does he mean by special though?” Honestly, this was more confusing than he had expected it to be.

“What do you think, Harry?” Hermione let out a small chuckle. “There´s at least as many wizards here as there are in London.” It took another moment for him to realize that _special pictures_ were just _moving pictures._

“But how does he…?”

“Really, Harry? Nearly ten years of people recognizing you and you haven´t gotten used to it?” She was teasing him, of course, and Harry could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks. Right, it wasn´t like he had transformed into a completely different person since the war had ended. Not physically at least.

“Right. How much is it?”

“This one? Free for you. I couldn´t take your money,” his English was pretty good, Harry noticed, though there was a slight accent shining through. “If you like the finished product, maybe you´ll keep me in mind and come back for more,” His smile was wide and Harry decided that it couldn´t hurt to take a picture, especially if it was free.

“Alright, perfect.” He nodded, positioning the two of them in front of the tower before holding the camera up.

“What do we do?” Hermione asked quietly, her lips curved into a smile. There was a light hearted melody playing in the background, from an accordion maybe? And Harry couldn´t help but smile, too. He wasn´t sure if the music was what got him to reach for Hermione´s hand, but it didn´t really matter. He could feel his smile getting even brighter as he spun her around and then pulled her in for another spin, the other arm wrapped around her waist.

“Camera,” he then reminded her as they turned to look towards the man, who was just then taking their picture. Harry could feel Hermione´s cheek against his own, his lips still curved into a smile.

And his heart beating just a little faster than it should.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love that you guys are so invested in the story! Thanks for leaving comments and kudos! x

After the picture had been taken they were handed a business card and told that they could pick up the picture this afternoon. The man then went about to try his luck with other tourists, though Harry wasn´t sure how he would be able to tell if they were wizards or not. Not everyone was as easily recognizable as he was, after all.

Harry wasn´t going to lie, he had enjoyed the attention every now and then, but there had been times when he´d wished he could have had a normal life. A life that included his parents. Still, he figured that things happened for a reason, and there wasn´t much he could do about how things had gone, all he could do was look ahead.

“Harry? Is everything alright?” Hermione´s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he nodded.

“Yes. Sorry. I´m alright.” He offered her a smile. “Now…where´s that coffee shop you and Fleur talked about? I could go with a nice cup of coffee.”

Hermione seemed confused for a moment, before remembering what Harry was talking about. “Yes, absolutely. It´s a bit of a walk from here though,” Not that either of them would mind. Surely, they could have gone into a back alley and apparated, but the weather was quite nice, considering it was only the end of May.

Falling in step beside Hermione they walked off the lawn and onto the busy streets. There were things Harry wanted to say, and ask, but part of him was also strangely content with just walking in silence for a little while. He´d found Hermione and she hadn´t sent him away, that was an achievement in itself.

He had absolutely no idea where they were going from here, but he trusted Hermione to tell him eventually. They had been friends for such a long time, that they knew each other inside out and he´d known exactly why she had left, even if she hadn´t told him. They knew what the other was thinking and Harry briefly thought back to Bill and Fleur´s wedding. How their eyes had met as Fleur had walked down the aisle, and how it had felt like something had fallen into place before being ripped to shreds when they had been attacked.

“Harry, where are you going?” Hermione was chuckling as she pulled at his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Glancing down at where her hand touched his arm Harry paused and then looked up. “What?”

“You walked past the café,” She smiled, nodding up at the small sign that spelled _Aux Cerises_. Harry had absolutely no idea what it meant, but it didn´t seem too important either. Smiling he ran a hand through his hair.

“Sorry. I was…thinking.”

“So I noticed,” Hermione chuckled again as she pushed the door open to step inside, with Harry following her. The café was modern, but still cosy. The walls were painted white, while the counter stood out in a deep blue. There were lots of small tables all across the room, and few bigger ones in the corner. Old mirrors had been hung as decorations and it was all topped off by a chandelier, that hung from the ceiling.

“This is nice,” Harry nodded as they settled for one of the small tables by the window. It was almost easy to forget why they were actually here in Paris. For a moment, looking out the window as he watched people passing by, Harry could almost pretend that they were on a holiday.

“Right?” Hermione agreed with a smile as she settled down before picking up a menu. “Do you just want coffee? Or maybe some cherry pie?”

“Cherry?” Harry asked, looking up to meet Hermione´s eyes.

“Yes, cherry. The fruit?” She replied with an amused look and Harry almost rolled his eyes.

“Yes I know what a cherry is. Just…why cherry pie of all things?” Not that he didn´t like cherries, he quite enjoyed them during the summer actually, but…he was losing his train of thought there.

“It was on the sign outside,” Hermione chuckled as she put the menu down. “It´s the cafés speciality. You know, _Aux Cerises_? That means something along the lines of _with cherries_. So _tarte aux cerises_ would be _cherry pie.”_

“Tarte aux cerises.” Harry repeated, trying out the words. They sounded far less elegant coming from his mouth than they did from Hermione´s, but that was a given. He hadn´t heard her speak French a lot before, there had been no reason for it, but Harry found that he liked it. It was like discovering a new side to her, a part she had kept hidden, not on purpose of course, and that he could now spend time unveiling.

“I lost you again there, didn´t I?” Hermione asked, her tone bemused as she pushed the menu over to Harry.

“Hm? Oh. Yes. Right. Cherry pie sounds fine to me.”

-

They ended up staying longer than anticipated, talking about everything and nothing, but all that Harry would remember later was the amazing cherry pie, the smell of coffee in the air and the sound of Hermione´s voice.

It was so familiar and he´d been hearing it for years but, surprisingly, he found that he wasn´t sick of it, and if he´d spend the rest of his life listening to only her voice, he´d be alright with it. That thought made him stop in his tracks, because the truth was: He had never felt that way about Ginny. Not that he´d found her voice annoying, of course not, but he somehow couldn´t imagine himself waking up every day and hearing her talk over and over again.

_Maybe she knew,_ Harry thought to himself. Maybe that was why she had let him go without any resistance, and maybe he had been trying to avoid the whole confrontation, even if he had known, too. In that sense she was braver than him, and maybe she always had been.

Hermione, blissfully unaware of Harry´s thoughts, was roaming through her bag, before pulling out a piece of paper. “We need to get some groceries for dinner. I was thinking maybe something simple, like pasta? I´m not sure I can use the frying pan yet.”

Harry could see the way her lips curved into a slight grin and he couldn´t help but laugh. “You are the absolute worst, you know that?”

“No I`m not, and you know it.”

When their eyes met Harry felt his heart miss a beat and for a moment it felt like all those horrible things had never happened. Like they were memories of another life, a distant dream maybe, and even though he knew that reality would catch up with them soon, he enjoyed those moments where he could just be himself, without having to deal with all the pain and grief.

“How about…” Hermione pulled the photographer´s card from her bag, “You go and pick this up, while I get the groceries? We can meet back at the apartment.” Giving him another smile, she added: “And you can use Lumos without fearing to be hit over the head.”

-

The address on the card wasn´t easy to find and Harry needed a tracking spell so he wouldn´t get lost. The studio was in a small apartment that was located in one of the back streets near the Eiffel Tower. When Harry finally found the name that matched the one on the card, he was let in and walked three stories up before finally spotting the open door.

“Ah, Mr. Potter. My pleasure,” the man smiled as he stepped aside and Harry entered the apartment. It wasn´t messy, but not quite neat either. There were different cameras everywhere, piled up books on photography, and even some blank canvases here and there. It seemed like the man was also an artist in his spare time.

“Yes. I came to collect…”

“The lovely photo of you and Miss Granger. I know,” his smile seemed to get brighter as he disappeared behind a stack of papers and books, only to reappear a moment later. “One of my great works, if I may say so.”

He handed over the picture and Harry´s lips curved into a smile without him even noticing. There he was, twirling Hermione around before pulling her in, their cheeks touching as they grinned into the camera. The Eiffel Tower in the background was a little blurry, but recognizable, but in the end the background didn´t matter as much. He couldn´t remember the last time he´d seem himself truly smile, but the picture showed exactly that, pure happiness.

“A lovely couple,”

Harry almost nodded, but then caught himself, as he tore his eyes away from the picture. “Oh, no. We´re not…I mean…” waving the man off he shook his head. “It´s not like that.”

“Ah well, my apologies. A lovely picture, then.” The man offered a smile and Harry returned it to the best of his abilities.

“Uh…thank you. For the picture.”

“Of course. Maybe you´ll think of me next time you´ll need a photographer.”

“I absolutely will.” Harry nodded and took the hand the man offered, shaking it.

-

Despite having walked over an hour he was still the first at the apartment. He felt a little less creepy getting inside this time, considering Hermione knew he was coming, or would be waiting for her when she came home.

Wandering into the living room, after changing into some more comfortable clothes, Harry picked up his bag and pulled out one of his most important possessions. It was a photo album Hagrid had given to him after his first year in Hogwarts. There had been a couple of pictures in it, one of Hagrid, some of Hogwarts, another one of Ron, Hermione and him during their first year, and a picture of his parents. He had added pictures to it ever since, and the album was almost full. There was a couple of pages left, however, and Harry used the next free page to insert the picture of Hermione and him.

Glancing down at the moving picture, he found himself smiling again. It showed nothing of the struggle the two of them had been through during the last couple of weeks, years even. It wasn´t forgotten, always in the back of their minds, but it wasn´t taking up the entire space of his being anymore. It felt like Harry could breathe again, and even though his thoughts wandered back to Ron every now and then, who´d probably be furious, he was sure he had made the right decision by going after Hermione.

The key being turned in the lock pulled him from his thoughts and Harry jumped a little, quickly closing the album and letting it slide into his bag.

“Everything alright?” Hermione, who was carrying two shopping bags, had pushed the door open with her foot, and glanced at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

“Huh? Yes. Of course,” He nodded, jumping up off the couch to help Hermione with the bags. There was a moment where she seemed to consider pressing on the matter, but then let it go, closing the door behind herself.

“Do you want to help with the pasta?” She asked instead and Harry, with a last glance at his bag, nodded.

“Sure.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go with another chapter. I don´t know why, but I really like this one in particular! I hope you guys do too! :)

The pasta had tasted wonderful. It had turned out that two people, who could cook well individually, could cook even better when doing it together. Harry briefly wondered why they hadn´t done it before, but then again maybe cooking had always been something negative to him, because the Dursleys had forced him to do it for them.

Cooking with Hermione was fun though, and sitting by the window, watching as the Eiffel Tower lit up, and listening to the chatter that floated up from the street beneath them was almost calming. It was the calmest Harry had felt in weeks, months maybe, without seeming restless.

At some point Hermione had poured them two glasses of wine and it was all…perfectly normal. Harry didn´t think he could ever go completely without using his magic, but right now this seemed to be the right thing to take his mind off things.

Paris was such a busy city, but up here it was just the two of them, and Harry couldn´t say that he minded.

Once the dishes were done Harry headed for the shower, which felt amazing after a day of running around the city, and when he stepped back into the bedroom, drying his hair off with a towel, Hermione had already settled into bed. She had a book on her lap, and it was such a familiar sight that it made Harry´s heart hurt just a tiny bit.

Her lips curved into a smile, though her eyes stayed glued to the pages of the book. “You´re staring,” A slight chuckle, and then she tore her gaze away to look at him. “Are you going to bed?”

It seemed like she was watching the wheels turn in his head, still smiling.

“Uh.”

“Yes, you can sleep here.” Another smile as she closed the book, and returned it to its place on the nightstand. “I thought we had established the bed was big enough for two.”

Which they absolutely had. Harry barely remembered falling asleep last night, it had been so effortless, just slipping away into a dreamland that was, for once, not filled with shadows of his past and dark creatures holding onto him, trying to drag him down.

Hanging the towel over the nearest chair, Harry slipped under the covers, and immediately felt the weight of the day sinking into his bones. He was tired, but it was a good kind of tired. The one he knew wasn´t going to keep him awake all night.

Settling into the pillows, Harry watched as Hermione turned off the nightlight. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, a steady and warm presence beside him. It felt…nice. Comfortable. Like…

_Home_. He thought to himself, though that realization didn´t quite make it through the fog of tiredness that was clouding his mind already.

“G´night, Mione.”

“Good night, Harry.”

-

The next time Harry awoke it was still dark outside. He noticed that Hermione´s side of the bed was, once again, empty. Still fighting off the sleep, that was threatening to pull him back into the comfortable silence, Harry swung his legs out of bed.

Registering that the bathroom light was turned off, he assumed Hermione must have gone to the living room. A small part of him panicked, thinking she might have left again, but why would she? Pushing the unpleasant feeling back he got to his feet, stifling a yawn.

When he pushed the door to the living room open, he indeed found Hermione there. She was on the couch, legs pulled up and Harry´s photo album on her lap. For a moment he was surprised, and then there was a small surge of anger, which he quickly pushed back. There was nothing in there she hadn´t seen. Well. Nothing but the picture of the two of them in front of the Eiffel Tower, which was exactly the picture she had picked up and taken from the page Harry had put it in.

A few enchanted candles were floating in the air, dousing the room into a warm light. When Hermione glanced up to meet his eyes, Harry felt almost caught. Like he had interrupted a private moment, even though the photo album belonged to him.

“Did I wake you?” Hermione´s voice was soft and a little sleepy, too. Like she´d just gotten up moments before, and maybe that was what had woken Harry up in the first place.

“No.” Shaking his head he made his way around the couch, and settled in next to her, briefly glancing at the picture again.

“Why did you try and hide it from me?” It wasn´t an accusation, just a genuine question, and Harry almost felt bad, still.

“I didn´t mean to.” And that was the truth, the picture had sparked something inside of him, something he couldn´t quite explain, and when Hermione had barged in on that moment of confusion, he´d panicked.

“We look…happy. Don´t we?” Hermione eventually asked and her lips curved into another smile, causing Harry to do the same. Reaching out to turn a few pages back, he eventually settled on the one he was looking for.

It was a picture of his parents. They were both wrapped in jackets and scarves, leaves falling around them, and James was twirling Lily around, and pulling her in, before the both of them turned to the camera, smiling brightly. It was the exact mirror image of the one Hermione was holding, safe for the background and the falling leaves.

Hermione ran her fingers over the edges of the picture, before looking up. Harry, who could feel his heart beating a little faster in his chest, met her eyes. They were warm and familiar, eyes he had stared into a thousand times, but this was different. They seemed to be searching his own for an answer to a question Harry didn´t know yet. It seemed to be dancing on the edges of his mind, but he couldn´t quite reach it.

Hermione was the one to break the spell eventually, turning her gaze away and back to the album. “We´ll put this here…” She mumbled, pulling out the picture that was on the opposite page, and inserting their picture, leaving it next to the one of James and Lily.

“Hermione, where are you going from here?” Harry purposely didn´t use the word _we_ , because he didn´t want to assume that, just because she allowed him to stay, she was also going to let him follow her wherever she was planning on going next.

“I…don´t know.” Leaning back against the cushions, Hermione closed the photo album and placed it on the table.

Harry didn´t immediately reply, because as much as his brain was still foggy from sleep, he knew what this implied. Hermione didn´t have a plan, and he couldn´t remember that ever being the case. Even during their darkest hours she had always known what to do.

“Then…where do you _want_ to go from here?”

There was another silence for a moment, as Hermione twirled a strand of hair around her finger, seemingly contemplating an answer.

“I want to finish our 7th year, once they open Hogwarts again.”

Harry glanced at her, nodding slightly. He wasn´t sure if he could go back so soon, but he remembered Mr.Weasley saying something about the teachers already rebuilding the school. It was probably going to open again for the next school year, but they weren´t going to make people go back right away, if they didn´t want to.

“And until then?”

“Beauxbatons offered me a position as a professor.” That, however, was new information to Harry. He could see Hermione as a professor, absolutely, she´d be a strict teacher, but also a great one. She had never let Ron and him copy her homework, but had always helped them if they asked. Which, admittedly, had been rare, but still.

“Maybe travel a bit? See how my parents are doing.” The ghost of a smile danced across her face.

“Get them back here?”

“I don´t know…I might leave them where they are, if they´re doing alright. Just until everything is settled a little more. Until after I´ve gotten my diploma.”

Harry nodded. It made sense. Hermione´s parents were safe, and while Voldemort had been defeated there was still chaos in the wizarding world. People fleeing, or trying to talk their way out of getting sent to Azkaban, people grieving the loss of their loved ones.

“That sounds like a good plan.”

“What about you?” Hermione glanced at him again, seeming to shift just the tiniest bit closer, and Harry thought for a moment. He didn´t know what he was supposed to do, other than to feel like his entire world had been shattered, and he was now trying to pick up the pieces and glue them back together.

“I don´t know…I sent a letter to the Dursleys. Asking if they´re alright. I didn´t get an answer, but…”

“You still want to go?” Hermione knew him all too well, but that didn´t come as a surprise to Harry anymore.

“We should go.” Her voice was a little less sleepy now, almost…determined. She reached out, briefly touching his hand.

“We should?” Harry asked back, not sure if this was a good idea, even though he had toyed with it himself. He hadn´t quite forgiven them for treating him the way they had, but with Sirius and Lupin gone, Petunia really was the closest connection he still had to his mother, and maybe this was something he needed to do.

He´d never have to see them again, but Harry needed to know that they were alright. The chances of them having actually been hurt were slim, but still. He needed to be sure.

“Yes. But not right now.” Hermione pulled her hand back with a smile, and Harry resisted the urge to reach for it again. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Harry repeated as he watched her pick up her wand, and moments later the enchanted candles disappeared one after another, leaving the room in an almost darkness, with nothing but the faint light from the street, and the Eiffel Tower in the distance, illuminating their shadows.

“Yes. Tomorrow. Now, let´s get some sleep.” Hermione brushed past him in the darkness, and Harry caught a scent of her familiar shampoo, which left him slightly dizzy.

“Tomorrow.” He repeated again, and briefly wondered how one word could sound like a promise to him. A promise he had every intention of keeping.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got a little longer than I planned, but I don´t think anyone´s complaining. :P Thank you for the reviews and kudos, they really mean the world to me! <3

Harry, once again, woke to the smell of coffee.

It had only been two days, but he was somehow already getting used to it. He felt a lot better than he had ever since the battle had ended, like he was able to breathe, and take a few steps without feeling like he was doing or saying something wrong. Actually getting some sleep was probably helping with that, too.

Harry quickly hopped into the shower and got dressed, before making his way back into the kitchen. Hermione had set the table again, though only for one person. When she noticed his slightly confused look, a smile spread across her face.

“I´m already done. I need to finish tiding up the rest of the flat. I washed your clothes, they´re on the table. I´m assuming we´re going to apparate?”

Harry glanced over at the living room table, where Hermione had left his neatly folded clothes, and his lips curved into a smile. This was the Hermione he knew, the one who always had a plan, and knew exactly what she was doing.

“Apparating. Yes.” He then found himself agreeing as he settled into the chair, picking up the cup of coffee to take a sip. It was the easiest way of traveling, and while Harry had technically never taken the exam, he had gotten quite good at it. More out of necessity, of course, because it had been the fastest, and easiest, way of getting around, while they had been looking for the Horcruxes, but the practice had made them nearly perfect, so he was convinced they´d be able to apparate to London without running into any major problems.

Hermione busied herself around the place then, while Harry took a deep breath, his gaze drifting out the window. It was still a little surreal to him. A few days ago he´d wondered where Hermione had gone, wondered why she hadn´t told him where she was going. Part of him still wondered why Fleur had nudged him into the right direction though. She must have known Hermione wouldn´t have sent him away, because otherwise she wouldn´t have let Harry go.

She could have gone and told Ron where to find Hermione, but then again no. He assumed Fleur and her talked, and Hermione had her reasons for leaving. Harry hadn´t exactly dared to ask her about her exact relationship status, but from how Ron had reacted to Hermione´s disappearance, and the fact that she had left without telling him, he didn´t assume that things were going well.

Pushing those thoughts aside for now, Harry finished his breakfast and cleaned up the dishes, before picking up the clothes Hermione had washed, to put them into his bag. He hadn´t brought too many along, mainly because he hadn´t thought too much about how long he´d be gone. If he hadn´t found Hermione, he would have needed to return to the Burrow within a day, but this whole trip was shaping up to be longer than he had expected. Harry couldn´t say that he was complaining though.

Hermione appeared in the door to the bedroom eventually, her bag slung over her shoulder. “Ready?” She then asked and Harry only nodded.

“Where exactly are we going, though?” They couldn´t just be caught appearing in Trafalgar Square. Diagon Alley was different, of course, but Harry wasn´t exactly keen on being seen by anyone. There had been times when he´d liked the attention, but after everything that had gone down in the past year, he´d rather not be looked upon with either pity, or anger.

“We could apparate to the Leaky Cauldron.” Hermione suggested, as she stepped into the living room, and Harry thought back to the last time they´d been there, passing through on their way to break into Gringotts. It had been nearly empty then, but then again it had been during the war, so he assumed people were less inclined to just go to the pub for a butterbeer.

“What if nobody´s there?” He asked, shouldering his own bag.

“Even better,” Hermione replied. “It´s not like a locked door is going to stop us, Harry.” She said his name in such an endearing way, like he´d said something that would usually make her roll his eyes, but she didn´t, because it was him who had said it.

“Right. Makes sense.” Harry ran a hand through his hair, before taking another step towards Hermione, who held out her hand to him. It was such a familiar sight and feeling, his fingers intertwining with hers as he concentrated on their destination. They had travelled like this quite a lot, with and without Ron, but it was those times without their best friend that had stuck with Harry. When they´d land in a new destination, and Hermione would clutch his hand tightly, a heartbeat passing, and another one, and then she would let go. And all Harry remembered, was wanting to hold on.

Closing his eyes, he eventually found himself being pulled into a hundred different directions, his stomach turning slightly as he held onto Hermione´s hand, her being the only constant that was anchoring him. A few seconds passed, and then Harry felt solid ground beneath his feet. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, feeling Hermione´s fingers still intertwined with his.

The Leaky Cauldron was, as presumed, empty. For a moment Harry felt like he could still hear the chatter of people though. A couple of empty glasses stood on the counter, as if someone had just finished up and left them there. He remembered the first time he´d come here, how people had stared, and stopped talking, and Harry hadn´t known why.

“Hey,” A gentle squeeze from Hermione brought Harry back to the present and he turned to look at her. “Everything okay?” He could only nod, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Back then he hadn´t known what he´d have to go through, back then he´d just been happy to get away from the Dursleys, the very place they were heading to right now. “Yeah. Where are we going?”

Hermione, who was still holding onto his hand, nodded towards the door. “I booked us a room in a hotel just down the street this morning. I figured the rooms here wouldn´t…be as comfortable as they used to be,” Her lips turned into a soft smile.

Hermione always had a plan.

“I´d be lost without you,” Harry eventually chuckled, though his words seemed to weight a little heavier than intended in the darkened room.

“Well. It´s a good thing I`m here then, isn´t it?” Hermione quipped with another smile, as she pulled him towards the door, still not letting go of his hand.

-

The hotel room Hermione had booked was small, but comfortable. There was a bed big enough for the two of them, a small table with two chairs by the window, and a bathroom that had both a shower and a bathtub. After placing his bag on the chair, Harry´s gaze drifted back to the bed eventually. It had become so normal for him to share a bed with Hermione. Her presence alone being enough to let him drift off to sleep almost peacefully.

He remembered being back at _the Burrow_ , spending night after night pretending that he was asleep, much like Ginny next to him. They had both known the other wasn´t asleep, but neither of them had said a word to the other. It had felt like there was nothing to talk about. They had both lost people, family and friends, but what would talking about it do? It couldn´t bring people back from the dead. So they had chosen to ignore each other instead which, in hindsight, had probably been a death sentence for their relationship.

Ginny was great, Harry wasn´t going to argue with that, but maybe he´d been trying a little too hard to make himself love her. And maybe Ginny had been trying to hold on to a crush, the promise of seeing each other again after the war being exactly that, a promise that they´d both make it out the other side alive. And they had, but that was all there was to it.

“Harry?” Once again it was Hermione´s voice that pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to look at her. She´d changed from her travel clothes, comfortable trousers and a white sweater, into a black skirt, combined with a blue shirt and the grey cardigan she had worn on their day out in Paris.

“Yeah?” blinking, Harry tore his gaze away from her body and met her eyes instead.

“I got us a car for tomorrow, we can pick it up in the morning and then drive down to your aunt and uncle´s house.”

“You got a car? But we don´t have a driver´s license.” Harry sounded mildly confused, but Hermione just chuckled.

“My parents taught me how to drive the summer before our 6th year,” Hermione then replied. “Besides, weren´t you the one who stole a flying car in our 2nd year?”

“That doesn´t mean I knew what I was doing.”

Hermione laughed. “Well, we´re all set. Don´t worry. Now, Mr. Potter, are you going to take me to dinner?” She eventually asked and Harry´s lips curved into a smile, as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Absolutely, Miss Granger.” Stepping around the bed, Harry offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

-

They had dinner in a small pub just across the street. People around them didn´t take notice, as they settled down to order their food, and Harry found that he liked the anonymity of it all. Back with the Dursleys, everyone in the neighbourhood had known who he was, even though they had tried to keep him hidden as best as they could, and at Hogwarts everyone had known his name before he´d even arrived. Here in London, however? At least in this non magical part of town, nobody cared about who he was.

They both had fish and chips, and when Hermione´s chips were empty she took to stealing some of Harry´s which, surprisingly, he didn´t mind one bit.

They picked up some ice cream on the way back to the hotel, and Harry almost felt…normal. Like everything that had happened in the past year had been a very vivid dream, but just that. Of course he´d be reminded that it had really happened soon enough, and he had to admit that he had thought about Fred and George, when they had landed in the Leaky Cauldron. What was going to happen to their shop? Would George reopen it? Or would he not be able to?

Harry remembered how it had felt to lose Sirius. How he´d give anything for just another minute with his godfather, but losing someone you had spent your entire life with? Someone whose face you´d have to see in the mirror every morning? Harry couldn´t imagine that, and the simple thought of it tightened his chest with grief.

When they returned to the hotel, he took a hot bath to get rid of the unpleasant feeling in the back of his mind, while Hermione had settled into bed, scribbling down their plans for tomorrow in a small notebook. When Harry emerged from the bathroom, she was just leaving it on the nightstand, smiling when she caught his eye.

“Ready to go to sleep? Breakfast is from 7 to 9.30. I think getting up by 8 should be enough. We have time to eat and then pick up the car. Which means we should be at Privet Drive around midday.”

Harry nodded as he slipped under the covers, letting himself sink into the pillows. Hermione followed suit, reaching out to turn the lights off. Sleep wasn´t coming as easily tonight, but that was probably because he´d slept rather well the last two nights. He wasn´t exhausted to the point of no return anymore, and his body seemed to have caught up with that.

“Mione?” Harry eventually broke the silence, feeling his best friend shift beside him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you…want to get back with Ron?” He wasn´t even sure why he was asking that question. Out of all the things he could have asked, this had been the first thing that had come to his mind. Maybe he was wondering how they´d end up fixing all of this. Could they all still be friends, if they broke up? Harry had a feeling that Ginny and him would be fine, but Ron´s mind had been so clouded by grief and anger, that Harry wasn´t sure if he could forgive Hermione, or Harry for that matter.

“I…don´t know.”

And there it was again, Hermione without a plan, not knowing what to do, or maybe what she wanted. It was the complete opposite of the Hermione he´d seen during the day, organizing things and keeping him on track.

“What about…you and Ginny?”

“That´s not happening anymore,” Harry replied without hesitation, as he felt another shift beside him, and then Hermione´s hand found his under the covers, linking their fingers together.

“Good,” She then whispered into the darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing that little Harmony Oneshot yesterday I had to finish this chapter. Enjoy! :)

Harry might have thought he had imagined that entire conversation, if it hadn´t been for the fact that he woke up with Hermione curled up against his side, arm slung over his chest and legs tangled with his own. He distinctively remembered not falling asleep like this, but it wasn´t like he was complaining either.

He couldn´t remember the last time he´d slept like this. Or maybe he could. There was a memory that crossed his mind, of Ginny curling around him, holding onto him for comfort. It had been just a few days after they had returned to _the Burrow_ , when she had been fighting sleep for so long that the days had all blurred into one.

It wasn´t the same as this, though. Hermione was warm against his side, and while she was curled against him, she wasn´t holding on for dear life. She was…comfortable. Her breathe going slowly, chest rising and falling against his side.

Harry wasn´t quite sure how long he´d stayed this way, listening to her breathing, but when Hermione stirred, his heart missed a beat and he quickly shut his eyes. He´d often pretended to be asleep when uncle Vernon had pulled open the door to the cupboard to yell at him, and most of the time Harry had gotten away with it.

The thing was: Hermione wasn´t uncle Vernon ( and thank Merlin for that ), she knew him way better than his uncle ever had, so she´d probably figure out that he was pretending.

“Harry?” Hermione´s voice was sleepy, and Harry could feel her shift beside him.

“Hm?” He wasn´t even sure why he was responding. Maybe it was the fear of her catching on to him not actually being asleep, or the fact that he´d never ignored her before, so he wasn´t going to start now.

“Uh…I…” untangling herself from him, Hermione turned over to check the clock on the nightstand. Harry had cracked an eye open, and even though it was dark in the room, he could see Hermione´s hair sticking into all kinds of different directions, and Harry could actually feel a pull on his heartstrings then.

“We should get up,” The sleep was slowly fading from her voice, as she turned back towards him. “I´ll have a shower, you can stay for a few more minutes,” There was a brush against his shoulder as he nodded.

Hermione swung her legs out of bed, heading for the bathroom, while Harry was trying to will his heart to beat a little slower.

It wasn´t working.

-

Hermione turned out to be a pretty good driver. Harry hadn´t really been in a car since Ron and him had borrowed the flying car in year two, and that had been an entirely different experience. They were silent for most of the ride, but it wasn´t an uncomfortable silence. It rarely ever had been with Hermione, really.

Maybe, back when they had been hunting for the Horcruxes, things had gotten a little awkward every now and then, but it hadn´t been her fault. Harry had been trying to find out what to say to her, to make her feel less sad and lonely, and for a while he hadn´t been able to come up with anything. Until that day when Hermione had just held his hand until they had eventually fallen asleep next to each other, and Harry had figured that, maybe, there wasn´t something he could say, only something he could do. Namely being there for here, when Ron had left.

Thinking back on it now, he wasn´t sure if they had ever fully resolved that. Surely, Ron had come back, and have even saved Harry´s life, but he wasn´t sure if Hermione and him had ever talked about the whole thing.

Shaking that thought off, Harry glanced out the window. They had long left the busy streets of London behind and Harry was beginning to wonder what he´d say once they reached his old home. Surely, he had been the one who´d sent a letter to the Dursleys, but he´d never received a reply. There was a chance they simply hadn´t received it, or maybe they´d gone on holiday now that the war was over, but the more likely answer was that they just didn´t care.

Harry wouldn´t even be surprised.

Still, they had come all this way now, and the least he could do was to check and see if they were alright. Besides: It wasn´t like they had a plan on where to go next. _The Burrow_ wasn´t exactly the place they wanted to be, and Hermione hadn´t decided on whether or not she wanted to go see her parents just yet.

_So the Dursleys it is…_ Harry thought to himself. At least Hermione was with him. It wasn´t exactly easy to admit, but there was nobody else he´d rather have by his side in this very moment than his best friend.

-

Privet Drive didn´t seem to have changed one bit. It was still the same street, with the same houses and their pebbled dashed walls. The neatly trimmed front lawns and the cars in the driveway. The one at Number 4 was empty, however, so Hermione parked the car there, turning off the engine.

Maybe the Dursleys weren´t even home.

“Everything okay?” She asked, turning to Harry, who could only nod.

It was strange, being back here after such a long time. It wasn´t necessarily a place of bad memories for him, not solely anyways. This was the house he´d grown up in, where he´d been forced to sleep in a cupboard under some stairs, but it was also the place where he´d studied magical books under his covers, where Ron, Fred and George had come to bust him out with a flying car, and the place where he´d eventually learned what he really was.

So no, this wasn´t the worst place on earth, at least not anymore.

Harry had rang the doorbell before he´d even noticed, feeling Hermione´s hand in his for a moment, squeezing. He briefly glanced over then, finding her smiling at him softly.

_It´s going to be fine,_ her eyes seemed to say, and somehow, despite the nervous tingle in his stomach, Harry believed her.

For a moment nothing seemed to happen, until they could both hear footsteps, and a key being turned in the lock. “Vernon, I didn´t know…”

Aunt Petunia still looked exactly the same she had all those years ago. A few more wrinkles around the eyes, maybe, but Harry somehow figured they were from worrying rather than ageing.

“…Harry.”

It seemed like she had expected someone else, her husband and son, probably, which explained the surprised look on her face, when she recognized her nephew instead.

“Yes. It´s me. I´m alive. Surprise.” Harry couldn´t quite help himself replying, which earned him an eye roll from his aunt.

“I know, silly. I…got your letter.”

“Then why didn´t you reply?”

This didn´t seem like a conversation to be held on the steps of the front door, and Hermione seemed to think so too.

“Maybe we could…go inside?” She suggested with a polite smile, and Petunia was probably glad not to have this conversation where half the neighbourhood could hear and see them. So she stepped aside, while Hermione nudged Harry into the house.

Not much had changed in here, either.

“I…apologize for not replying…yet.” She eventually spoke up again, as they made their way into the living room area. “We only just returned a week ago. Vernon and Dudley left to look at some universities for your cousin,”

“Universities?” Harry couldn´t help but ask. Right, Dudley wasn´t stupid, by all means. Spoiled, yes, but not necessarily stupid. Still, he couldn´t quite imagine his cousin at a university. Pushing aside that thought, Harry turned to look around. It was the same green couch, the old TV, only the dining room table had been replaced in the past couple of years.

“Yes. They´ll be back tomorrow.” She moved into the kitchen, where there seemed to be something in the oven. Harry immediately recognized the smell. Brownies. She´d often made them for Dudley, and they were probably also the reason he´d been overweight his entire life.

“I am…glad you´re alright, Harry.” It seemed to be hard for her to say those words, but somehow Harry could tell that she at least meant them. “I…” trailing off she turned to look at the brownies, which she had taken from the oven and placed onto the counter.

“Would you two like some? I made them for myself, because…well the house was quiet and I had nothing else to do. How about you, Hermione?”

“You know who I am?” Hermione asked, honestly a little surprised.

“Of course. The brightest witch of your age, isn´t that what they call you? Like they did with my sister,”

They all fell silent, and Harry could help but feel his stomach twist slightly. He´d never really heard Petunia talk about his mother before. Vernon had never made his dislike for her a secret, but suddenly Harry couldn´t remember his aunt ever joining him in his vocalization of said dislike. Not when Harry had been around anyways.

“I´ll leave you two to talk,” Hermione´s voice, and her hand on his shoulder, pulled Harry from his thoughts. “I´ll take one of those outside, if I may. They smell heavenly,” Her hand lingered on him for a moment longer, as Petunia nodded, while Hermione picked up a brownie and then wandered outside into the garden.

“I didn´t know you had a girlfriend.” Petunia eventually spoke again, and Harry was quick to shake his head.

“Oh, no. We´re not…I mean…she´s brilliant, and she´s my best friend, but we´re not…” He wasn´t even sure why he was rambling so much. Or maybe he was, but it was something he didn´t like to think about, not without knowing where they actually stood. With Ron, too.

“Well does she know you´re just best friends?”

Harry frowned slightly, but before he couldn´t say anything, he found that his aunt was laughing. Harry couldn´t quite remember if he´d ever heard her laugh before, and he assumed his baffled expression wasn’t helping in making her stop.

“Oh you silly boy,” She then shook her head, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“…what?” Harry wasn´t quite sure where this was going, but the next words weren´t the ones he had expected from his aunt, and they hit him like a duelling spell he wasn´t quite able to counter.

“The way she touches you? The way she looks at you? It’s the exact same look your mother had when she looked at your father,”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...things are getting interesting. :P

“What?” The words didn´t quite make sense in Harry´s head. He´d never really heard Petunia talk about his mother before. Surely, she had never told Vernon off for speaking badly about Lily and James, but he was trying to think of a moment where she´d actually said something horrible about them.

He came up empty.

“Your father. I only met him once, when Lily brought him home for the first time.” Petunia continued. “After that…I made a point to avoid being home, when they came to visit.”

Part of Harry wanted to ask why, but he had a feeling that he wasn´t going to like the answer, and his aunt probably wouldn´t like telling it either, so he stayed silent.

“But the way she looked at him, I knew she was going to marry him.” Petunia then added, grabbing onto the kitchen counter a little harder. “The love, it was evident. The way she touched him gently, how she looked at him,” Her eyes found Harry´s. “I apologize, if I´m overstepping, but that girl?” She nodded towards the glass door that lead into the garden. “She´s in love with you. The question is: Are you in love with her, too?”

The thing about all of this was, somewhere deep down, Harry knew that Petunia was probably right. He thought back to all those summers when Hermione had written him letters, and how he´d written back. Not nearly as many as she had, of course, but still. He´d never written a letter to Ginny. How they´d spent the nights in the tent sleeping close together, their backs touching, and later, when Ron had been gone, with fingers intertwined under the covers.

The sting of jealously he´d felt, when Hermione and Ron had told him that they were giving their relationship a try. How it had been overshadowed by the grief they´d all felt.

And then she´d left, and all Harry had wanted was to go after her.

“I´m taking that as a yes.” Petunia´s voice pulled him back from his thoughts, and Harry blinked. “I´ll be right back, oh and Harry?”

He followed with his eyes as she passed him, stepping into the hallway. “Yeah?”

“If you love her, don´t waste another moment,”

Harry, still a little overwhelmed by the revelation, could only nod, as he took a few steps through the living room and towards the glass door.

Hermione was standing near one of the flower beds Petunia so carefully kept intact. Harry remembered her spending countless hours outside, making sure everything was neat and perfect. He´d never known why it was so important to her, but then he´d never really thought about it before.

“Everything alright?” Hermione asked, turning towards him. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, and her head cocked to the side. Harry could feel his heart beating a little faster in his chest, and suddenly he knew that Petunia had been right.

“Yeah…I just…” He frowned slightly. “I think my aunt never really hated my mother.” It was strange, to think that something he´d been holding on to for such a long time, would turn out to be untrue.

“Oh she didn´t.” Hermione replied and now Harry´s frown seemed to get a little deeper.

“How would you know?” It wasn´t meant as an insult, but all Hermione knew about his aunt and uncle had been from what he´d told her, and considering he´d only just realized Petunia might not have hated his parents all that much, he wasn´t sure how Hermione could know.

“You see those flowers?” She asked, pointing at one of the flowers beds to their left, and Harry nodded.

“Do you know what kind of flowers they are?”

He would have to pass on that one. Harry could tell a rose from a tulip, but that was about it. He´d never really been big on flowers, and it usually wasn´t something teenage boys were into.

“Harry,” Hermione´s lips had curved into a soft smile. “They´re Lilies.”

Harry could feel his heart sink for a moment. That had to be a coincidence, right? The truth was: Ever since the war had ended, nothing had made sense anymore. His friendship with Ron, his supposed feelings for Hermione, the way his aunt seemed to think about her sister differently than he had anticipated?

_Wow_ , Harry thought to himself, _growing up is bloody awful._

“I´ve kept them all these years,” Petunia´s voice broke the silence, and Harry and Hermione turned to watch her step out into the garden. “Vernon can´t tell a rose from a weed, so he never noticed,”

Her expression was soft, and for a moment Harry didn´t even notice that she was carrying something. It was a small cardboard box, one Harry had never seen before.

“I kept these, too. They´re pictures. All sorts. Your mother and I when we were younger,” Petunia trailed off, holding the box out to Harry, who was nudged by Hermione to take it. “I figured you´d like to take a look. Maybe you can bring them back some time,”

Harry could feel his hands shaking a little, as they touched the box. He only had a couple of pictures of his parents, the ones Hagrid had somehow gotten for him, and he was sure Sirius had kept some at Grimauld Place as well. The house technically belonged to Harry, but he hadn´t been there ever since they´d gone to hunt for the Horcruxes. Maybe that would have to change.

“I…yeah. Of course,” Harry eventually found himself nodding. “We should…probably go,” He really had no intention of being here, when Vernon and Dudley came home. He knew he´d eventually have to make his peace with them, but talking to Petunia was enough for one day.

Nudged by Hermione, he stepped forward and back into the house, clutching the cardboard box in his hands.

“We´ll write,” Hermione promised, and Harry wondered if it was just saying it to make Petunia feel better. Were they actually going to write? Was _he_ going to write? Why would they write together? His mind kept going back to what his aunt had told him.

So maybe he was in love with Hermione. And maybe he´d tried to ignore it. Which, being honest, was absolutely something that could have happened, but Hermione? Why wouldn´t she have said a thing if she liked him back?

It made no sense.

Waving goodbye as they left the driveway, Harry glanced down at the box in his lap. Part of him was itching to have a look, but this didn´t feel like the right place to do so.

So the rest of the drive back to London was quiet, and Hermione didn´t ask if he was alright.

-

Eventually, Hermione had gone to take a shower, leaving Harry to himself. He sat crossed legged on the bed, the box in front of him.

He´d been staring at it for a good fifteen minutes, when the door to the bathroom opened and Hermione stepped out. Harry was momentarily distracted, considering she was only wrapped in a towel.

“You´re staring,” She chuckled, and Harry immediately felt caught, heat rising to his cheeks.

“Sorry…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, messing it up little. He really needed to get this sorted out, or it was going to drive him crazy.

_At least she didn´t seem to mind the staring…_ He thought to himself, briefly glancing back at her, as she settled onto the bed.

“Can I?” Hermione´s hands hovered over the box, and Harry simply nodded. If there was someone he had absolutely no secrets from, then it was Hermione. It used to be both her and Ron, but considering he had probably been in love with Ron´s ex-girlfriend for as long as he could remember, Harry assumed that qualified as a secret, even if he hadn´t really known it himself.

Hermione reached into the box and picked up a picture. Harry couldn´t see what kind of picture it was, but he noticed the way Hermione´s lips curved into a smile.

“What is it?” Harry carefully asked, and Hermione turned the picture over. There were two kids in the picture, one was clearly his mother, and the other one had to be Petunia. Lily couldn´t be more than 5 years old, and Petunia was carrying what looked like a self-made, colourful cardboard cone. It must have been her first day of school.

Harry took the picture and ran his hands over it. He´d never seen a picture of his mother as a child. He really did have his father´s looks more than hers, but she had the same smile he was carrying.

Meanwhile Hermione had picked up another picture, her lips forming a silent _Oh._

“Everything okay?” Harry found himself asking, and when Hermione turned the picture over, he felt his heart missing a beat.

It was his parents wedding picture.

It was almost an exact mirror of the picture Hagrid had given him. James, wearing a suit, was spinning Lily around, while she was laughing in her white dress. _We missed you,_ was written on the back, in what Harry thought to be his mother´s handwriting.

“She kept an enchanted picture,” Harry whispered, and for some reason he felt himself tearing up. He was trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, but it seemed to only get worse.

“Hey,” Hermione replied softly, reaching out to take his hand.

Harry felt a sudden urge to pull back, but forced himself not to. It would seem like Hermione had done something wrong when, in fact, she had done everything right. Merlin, she could have just sent him away when he´d come looking for her, but instead she had welcomed him with open arms.

Well, with a frying pan, but still.

He was still here, with her, while Ron wasn´t, so that had to mean something, right?

“Everything alright?” Hermione asked then, squeezing his hand lightly, and Harry was sure that he had an accurate response to that question, but he didn´t quite make it there. Instead his brain somehow short circuited, causing him to lean over the box, pressing his lips to Hermione´s.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took a little longer to update, but here we are. Thanks for all the lovely comments, again. I´m so glad you guys are loving this story as much as I do! <3

Harry´s mind needed a moment to catch up with his actions.

He was kissing Hermione, his best friend, while they were in a hotel room somewhere in London. He´d just broken up with his girlfriend, and Hermione had ended things, one way or another, with their best friend, and maybe Harry couldn´t quite tell if his head was spinning from the kiss or the thoughts running through his mind.

Hermione, who seemed to have eventually woken from her trance like state, pulled back, biting her lip. She looked confused, maybe even regretful?

“Harry.” She whispered, blinking at him, and Harry wondered if he´d made a mistake. Had he read the signs wrong? Had what Petunia had told him clouded his mind, somehow planting the idea of Hermione actually liking him, in there, when in reality, it wasn´t the case?

“Wow…I`m sorry…I…” He wasn´t even sure what he was apologizing for in the first place. Maybe this had been the wrong timing, or even the wrong thing to do, but he couldn´t bring himself to regret it. Even though he could feel his chest tighten at the thought of possibly losing his best friend to something as silly as this.

It was almost strange, how leaving Ginny behind had been less painful than the simple thought of losing Hermione. Surely, he´d still be able to talk to Ginny, they´d probably even be friends eventually, but just the fraction of a thought crossing his mind, the thought of Hermione taking off and leaving him behind, was threatening to break Harry´s heart. It was funny, though, because he was sure that his heart had been broken countless times over the past years. He´d lost so many people, Cho and him hadn´t worked out, and in the end she had broken his heart, but he´d always had his friends to fall back on.

He´d always had Hermione.

“Say something, please.” He whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he glanced at his best friend. The pictures of his mother, father and aunt were still scattered between them, and it seemed like Hermione was trying very hard to come up with an answer, or anything to say, really. Harry could practically see the thoughts running wild behind her eyes.

And that was when he realized, that Hermione didn´t have a plan.

This kind of situation didn´t seem like one that would ever arise, and admittedly Harry hadn´t thought that it would, either. Not that he hadn´t thought about kissing her, because he had. Back at the Yule Ball, when she had seemed so happy he had thought she´d burst. After they had freed Sirius from the tower, with her hair all tousled and a bright smile on her face, because they had done _that_ , after a particularly high win over the Slytherin Quidditch team, when she had been the first to run up to him, arms thrown around him. In the tent, when they´d laid side by side and had woken up, faces only inches apart.

It had never been the right time though, so Harry had waited. Then Ginny had somehow come into the picture, because she´d been the next best thing, because if Hermione was with Ron, at least this way they would all stay together.

It hadn´t been fair to Ginny, really, and when they eventually returned he´d have to apologize, but the truth was: It had always been Hermione for him. Petunia had been right about that.

The question was: Would they return together, or would Harry have to pack his things and go?

Hermione had always been better at reading him than the other way around. She had always known when something was up, and she´d always known how to fix it. Harry wished he could do the same for her now, but he wasn´t in any position to make decisions for her.

If this was what she wanted, then she´d have to decide that for herself. He would have never been able to forgive himself, if he pushed her into something that she wasn´t ready for. Or worse, something she didn´t want.

The thing was though: He´d felt it, too. That she cared about him, but there was a fine line between caring and being in love with someone.

“I…Harry…” A sigh fell from her lips, as Hermione slid off the bed, looking around for her clothes. She was, after all, still only wearing a towel.

Harry had half a mind to look away as she slipped into her underwear, but when the towel dropped to the floor to reveal Hermione´s back, her wet hair dripping, and drops of water sliding down her skin, he needed to remind himself to breathe.

It wasn´t like he hadn´t thought about _that_ either. He had, but he´d been trying not to. Honestly, during the war he had been a little too occupied with not dying, but he was a teenage boy after all. He´d tried not to let the fantasy become too prominent, though. Hermione was, above all, still his best friend, and to let her become nothing but the centre of a wank fantasy didn´t do her justice.

Sighing, Harry forced himself to turn his attention away from Hermione, and to the scattered pictures on the bed. She still hadn´t said a word, other than his name, and his nerves were beginning to get the better of him.

“I mean…it could have been worse?” he eventually found himself saying, as he dropped the photo of Petunia and Lily back into the box.

Hermione, now dressed in a shirt and some shorts, turned to look at him.

“You could have hit me?” From all the stories Harry had heard, this could have very well been a line that had come straight from his father´s mouth, and he had no doubt, that his mother had hit him over the head a couple of times during their time together.

“Well. I couldn´t find a frying pan.” The words hung in the air for a moment as their eyes met, and before Harry could even reply, Hermione had erupted into laughter. Her lips split into a wide grin that reached her eyes, her whole body shaking with the laughter spilling from her mouth.

All Harry could do was join in. It seemed like all the tension, which had built up over the course of the last few minutes, had vanished into laughter.

“You know, I´m kind of glad about that,” Harry eventually chuckled. “Once is enough for now. Or you know, for the rest of our lives. Since we´re talking about it, please don´t ever hit me over the head with a frying pan again, alright?”

“What about newspapers?” Hermione countered, sitting back down on the bed.

Harry let out a laugh. “Newspapers are fine.”

Not because he enjoyed being hit over the head, but because the whole thing implied that Hermione would still be a part of his life. No matter how this all turned out.

“I´ll keep that in mind, then.” Hermione smiled as she reached for the picture that showed Lily and James of their wedding day. Despite everything they had been through, with an impending war upon them, they still looked like they´d never been happier.

“Did you ever think about it?” She eventually asked and Harry glanced at her, and then the picture in her hands, for a moment.

“About what?” He then found himself asking carefully. That question could mean about a million things, and he wanted to make sure he got his answer right.

“About us. If we could be happy.” She turned the picture to reveal James and Lily smiling at him, waving into the camera.

For a moment Harry just stared, but then he turned to reach for his bag, pulling out the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year at Hogwarts. He skipped a couple of pages and then pulled out pictures, one of Ron, Hermione and him at the ball, taken before everything had gone to hell that night. One of the two of them in Fred and George´s shop, the day of the grand opening, both Hermione and him smiling into the camera. Another one taken at _the Burrow_ just day before they had started their sixth year. Even the horrible newspaper clipping Rita Skeeter had written about them during the Triwizard Tournament.

Harry pushed the box aside and spread the pictures on the bed between them. “In every single one of those.” He then whispered, before pulling out the picture they had only taken a couple of days ago, the two of them smiling, cheek to cheek, in front of the Eiffel Tower. “But most of all, here.” He then added, his voice breaking ever so slightly again.

He could feel his heart beating against his ribcage so hard that it hurt, and for a moment he wondered if a heart could actually break. He´d heart about people dying of broken heart syndrome, and even though that was probably something none related to heartbreak from being rejected, Harry still couldn´t help but wonder.

He felt as if his heart had been broken and put together again so many times, that the cracks were beginning to show, and if anyone was going to be able to leave permanent damage on his heart, it was Hermione.

Running her hands over the pictures between them, a soft expression spread over Hermione´s face.

“You know,” She then chuckled, “If you´d have asked me to the Yule Ball that year, I would have said yes.”

It all seemed so far away now, happier times, maybe, but also times where they had no idea what was about to hit them.

Smiling, Harry picked up his wand as he mumbled a spell, and moments later the room was filled with a soft tune. It was a tune he´d picked up in that little coffee shop in Paris just days ago.

Getting off the bed, he held out his hand to Hermione. “Dance with me?” he then asked almost boldly, their eyes meeting in the dim light of the hotel room once more.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we are at the end of this wonderful story. I hadn´t written Harmony in such a long time, but getting back into it made me happy, and I am more than glad for so many of you, who stayed for the journey and left me such wonderful feedback. I hope you enjoy the last chapter, and I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for sticking around! <3

Hermione glanced at Harry´s outstretched hand for a moment, though in her heart she knew she´d long made her decision. Reaching out to grab it, she let herself be pulled off the bed, and into his arms.

The music was calming, like some happy memory that made both their lips curve into smiles. Hermione rested her head against Harry´s shoulder for a moment, just closing her eyes and taking it all in.

It wasn´t really dancing, more like swaying around to the music, but it was enough to make Harry´s heart beat faster once more. She might not have kissed him back, or been a little too overwhelmed to do it, but at least she had accepted the dance. Maybe that was all he was going to get for now, and maybe it would have to be enough.

With an arm around her waist Harry, they swayed along to the soft music, before he eventually began twirling her around. A laugh escaped Hermione´s lips, as she was being pulled against him once more, and for a moment Harry had a wonderful, but also at the same time terrifying, thought.

He was head over heels in love with his best friend, and that laughter was something he´d want to spend the rest of his life hearing. More so, he´d want to spend the rest of his life being the cause for that laughter.

It wasn´t going to be easy, it never was if he was being honest, but the way his heart was beating out of his chest made it impossible for him to ignore the puzzle pieces, that had slowly been putting themselves together during the past week.

It felt like everything finally made sense, like they´d been trying to find the missing puzzle pieces all along, but it had taken Hermione leaving for them to figure out that they belonged together. Harry was well aware that this realization had to, by no means, lead to a happy ending for the both of them, but there was nothing more he wanted in this moment.

“Do you…” he whispered, his arm wrapping around her waist again to pull her close. “Do you remember Bill and Fleur´s wedding? If things hadn´t gone to hell…I would have asked you to dance with me,” And maybe it would have been the wrong timing. Maybe their relationship, or worse, their friendship, wouldn´t have survived the hunt for the Horcruxes, or the war, but Harry wanted Hermione to know that he hadn´t just suddenly taken a liking to her.

This whole feeling, it had been there the entire time, and he simply hadn´t recognized it for what it was.

“You would have?” Hermione asked quietly, pulling back slightly so she could look at him. Her eyes seemed especially bright in the dim light of the hotel room, and Harry wondered how easy it would be to just get lost in them. “I remember looking at you when Fleur walked down the aisle,” She then continued. “And I wondered…if we´d ever get to have that. If it was worth asking if we could have it, because…” Hermione trailed off for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I knew I didn´t want it with Ron, and when he left…I felt bad, because while I cared about him as a friend, I would have chosen you over him when it came to love, so he would have been right.”

It felt strange to finally say those words out loud. To admit the real reason for leaving _the Burrow_ , for not sticking around, for not being able to stick it out with Ron. She could have been his friend, but for him to expect her to be his girlfriend, while simultaneously standing by to take all his jabs and mood swings? Hermione hadn´t been prepared for that.

Leaving might not have been the best way to get things sorted out, but she didn´t regret it as much as she thought she would, not with how things had turned out now. With Harry and her in some London hotel, dancing along to a French song, and finally talking about what they should have maybe talked about a long time ago.

Or at least before he´d followed her, and Hermione had ended up hitting him over the head with a frying pan.

Laughing at the memory, she suddenly found herself closer to Harry than she had anticipated, but this time it wasn´t scary. There was a memory flashing in front of her eyes then, the exact same situation a few months prior, where she´d walked away. Maybe because she´d been scared of the consequences of her actions, of what would happen if they ever saw Ron again, and he´d know he´d been right.

None of that fear was left now though, just a warm and fuzzy feeling inside her chest that was slowly taking over.

They both cared about Ron, and she wasn´t sure how they were going to fix this, but there was going to be a way. There simply had to be. They´d always figured out how to fix things, and in the end they were best friends, it wasn´t something that was so easily thrown away.

He´d come around eventually, and that thought alone was enough for Hermione to finally step off the edge and leave all her worries behind.

“Harry James Potter,” Pausing for a moment to take a breath, Hermione lips curved into a smile. “I love you.”

They had stopped swaying along to the music at some point, but it didn´t really matter. All that mattered was that, this time, it was Hermione who closed the distance between them. It was a fairly tame kiss, with her arms wrapping around his neck as she got on to her tiptoes, to get a better angle, but it was better than anything Harry could have imagined.

His own arms wrapped around her to keep her close, as he felt a warmth dripping down his neck, through his chest and into his stomach, making the whole world fall away. Even the music seemed to fade into the background as they kissed, though Harry had a feeling that he´d forever link their first kiss with a French song, of which he didn´t even know the name.

Hermione eventually moved her hands to his shirt, pulling him along to the bed, where they stumbled onto the mattress with laughter erupting from both their throats. Glancing down at her, Harry´s lips curved into a soft smile, as he pushed a strand of hair from her face.

“I don´t want to go back,” Hermione eventually whispered into the silence, “Not yet.”

And Harry understood the sentiment. There was so much they´d have to deal with, but right now he didn´t want to defend something that made him so happy. Happier than he had been in a long time. “We could go back to Paris,” He replied with a soft smile. “For a while. Then maybe see how your parents are doing, and write to McGonagall to see how things are going at Hogwarts, and if we can go back after the summer.”

Hermione´s heart missed a beat there, and she smiled. “That sounds wonderful.” An entire summer to figure things out? To just be together? It sounded perfect. She knew that there´d still be nightmares, and doubts and things to be figured out, but when she´d left _the Burrow_ she hadn´t been excited to go somewhere, she´d just wanted to get away from all the pain and sadness that was threatening to pull her under.

Now the prospect of going somewhere wasn´t just the only way out, it was a beacon of light that made her heart sing.

“We can go first thing tomorrow,” Harry replied with a smile, reaching for all the pictures that were scattered around them on the bed. He didn´t want any of them to get crumpled, so he quickly put them back into the small cardboard box. Except for the one of Hermione and him in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Or maybe not first thing,” he then added, glancing back at Hermione, who nodded, as if she knew what he was talking about it.

“We should probably get some sleep,” She then added, pulling Harry back down onto the mattress, lips meeting with his in another kiss.

“Hermione?” He eventually whispered as they slipped under the covers, legs tangled together and her head resting on his chest.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

And Hermione swore that she could still hear the French melody play in the distance.

-

A day later, and a couple of hundred miles down South-West, Fleur was up early, drinking her coffee out in the garden, while the rest of the house was still quiet. She could already see the owl approaching from the distance, but didn´t realize the letter it was carrying was for her, until the animal landed in front of her on the table.

Carefully extracting the envelope from the owl´s beak, Fleur ran her hands over the animal´s head in a gentle pat. When she opened the envelope, however, it wasn´t a letter like she had expected it to be. Instead there was a picture of two familiar faces, in a location that was well known to her.

Fleur´s lips curved into a smile, as she turned the picture around to read what was written on the back.

_We´ll be alright._

_Don´t wait for us._

“Finalement…” She muttered to herself, and her smile seemed to get a little brighter.

_“Wait for me, I'm comin'_  
_Wait, I'm comin' with you_  
 _Wait for me, I'm comin' too_  
 _I'm coming too,”_


End file.
